


Absolution Underground

by Shiro_Kabocha



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Confessional, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Male Byleth - Freeform, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-War, Rough Oral Sex, Sex, Sex in the Holy Tomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiro_Kabocha/pseuds/Shiro_Kabocha
Summary: The war has ended with King Dimitri ascending the throne not just of Faerghus, but over a unified Fodlan.  Byleth has assumed the role of the Archbishop if the Church of Seiros and while both men strive to usher in an era of peace, sometimes they wish they could buck the yokes of their responsibilities and just be together as they were during the war.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Absolution Underground

**Author's Note:**

> This gets pretty dirty down in the crypt, hope you’re ready for it! ^_~

The sight of Garreg Mach Monastery filled Dimitri with a religious fervor he had never known in his youth. He'd been raised to worship the goddess, had been taught from childhood that only by her mercy would his mortal efforts be judged. He could recite the prayers, the parables, the prophecies all by memory. But they had never meant so much to him as they did now, as the crowned King of Fodlan, responsible for the peace of an entire nation rather than just the small kingdom he had expected to inherit one day. And absolution meant so much more now than it ever had before. Especially since the church was now his greatest ally and the greatest support in unifying a previously divided realm. And it certainly didn't hurt that the church had undergone a drastic change in leadership.

"Sire." Dimitri's bodyguard bowed to him as he dismounted his warhorse. "Shall I have your room prepared? I can send a guard with you to the bathhouse so that you may rest now that our journey to the monastery has concluded."

"No need," Dimitri assured him, smiling kindly. "I will go straight to the cathedral. My confession cannot wait until later."

The guard nodded, though Dimitri didn't miss the look of confusion on his face. The previous kings of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus usually confessed to their own personal priests and often demanded the archbishop attend to them, rather than make the pilgrimage to Garreg Mach themselves. But Dimitri was not the King of Faerghus: he was the King of Fodlan. And the church had made some changes that even a king dared not disobey.

Not that Dimitri wanted to disobey.

The monastery wasn't completely recovered from the war, but it looked better, more complete, every time Dimitri came to visit. It would never lose its war scars--none of them would--but it looked mighty and impenetrable once more and was once again training the youth of the kingdom to be officers, warriors and mages. Dimitri brushed a pillar in the entrance hall, still marked by a deep sword gash. This place held so many memories for him, both sweet and bitter. He swallowed back the nostalgia and made his way to the cathedral.

Where he knew the archbishop awaited him.

The cathedral was far from empty, yet Dimitri could still hear his footsteps echo endlessly as he strode up the central aisle. The ceiling had long since been fixed, the stained-glass windows replaced. A choir practiced near the entrance, but softly so as not to break the quiet reflection of the penitent. Dimitri scanned the altar at the head of the cathedral, yet didn't catch a glimpse of the archbishop's distinctive hair color. He didn't worry, though. There were two alcoves near the altar, one set aside for prayers to the four saints. The other alcove held the entrance to the holy mausoleum, a door that was only opened once every year to the public.

Or at least, that used to be the case.

Dimitri bowed his head before the altar, whispering a swift prayer to the goddess, before turning and striding towards the left alcove. As soon as he turned the corner, his heart began to thunder in his chest. There, before the ominous black door, stood the archbishop.

Byleth, the man who once fought alongside Dimitri in the war to free Fodlan from the Empire's tyranny. The man who was once his teacher, his confidant, his friend…and also so much more.

"Your Grace." Dimitri lowered his head, crossing one arm over his chest in salute. "It is good to see you again."

Something like the light of redemption danced in Byleth's eyes, a smile filling his face as he gazed upon Dimitri. "Yes. It's good to see you as well, Dimitri." That was always a tiny thrill: hearing his name spoken without reverence, without title, without fear. All of his old friends, his companions from both childhood and war, had transitioned to calling him "Majesty" and little else. There was a certain amount of...intimacy in hearing his name spoken so plainly. The smile left Byleth's face too soon as he studied the man who called himself king. "What is it, Dimitri? You look...weary."

"I am weary," Dimitri admitted, the words spoken with truest relief. "I have come to confess my sins once again. I seek your absolution, Archbishop."

"Then come and speak." The tiniest smile curled the edges of Byleth's mouth as he extended his hands palm up before him. "I am always prepared to offer absolution to the children of the goddess."

Dimitri longed to run forward, to fall to his knees, to grasp Byleth's hands in his own, yet he forced himself to walk with all the dignity of a reigning monarch. He kept his eyes locked on Byleth's face as he lowered himself to his knees, then lightly rested his hands atop Byleth's palms. Only then did he lower his head and begin his confession.

"I confess that I have grave doubts about the future of the kingdom," Dimitri intoned, voice low, hushed. "I do my best to rule as I think a leader desiring peace must rule, but at times I cannot help but make a decision that will go against the people's wishes."

"We all must strive for balance," Byleth replied, tone even. "In some cases, a province that enjoys great prosperity must help a province in need of aid. Though this may cause some resentful feelings, the greater suffering must be avoided. Have faith that the goddess will restore balance in time."

Dimitri nodded without lifting his head. "I confess that I have not yet chosen a suitor to be my co-ruler, though my advisors urge me to do so every day. I'm afraid my heart belongs to one I cannot have."

"We all wish for love." Byleth's voice was softer here. Dimitri felt his thumb rub the side of his hand comfortingly. "Choose a co-ruler who will make you and all of Fodlan greater. Have faith that the one you love will love you in return no matter the cost."

Dimitri nodded again. He swallowed hard, attempting to steel himself against this final confession. "I confess that I have been receiving missives from the king of Almyra. Missives of peace between our realms and aid for the war-torn provinces across Fodlan. This offer weighs on me like no other. I can't afford to refuse his offers, yet I know my people will not easily accept the cost."

Silence. No platitude for this confession, though Dimitri had expected none.

"An offer?" Byleth repeated. "From the king of Almyra?"

"Yes, Archibishop," Dimitri breathed.

"A promise of aid...from an old classmate of yours?"

"Yes, Archibishop."

"I can't imagine such an offer comes without a price." Byleth's tone was flat, sans any inflection at all. "Almyra may have much to offer, but what do they ask in return?"

"The Almyran king wishes for peace between our two great countries," Dimitri explained. "He wishes for open borders, and--" Dimitri gulped. "An alliance of marriage."

"Marriage," Byleth repeated. "The king of Almyra wishes to wed...you?"

"He says it would be symbolic at best," Dimitri said in a rush, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "He says a union blessed at Garreg Mach would open the hearts and minds of the citizens of Fodlan. It would never be more than a political marriage, and I cannot find fault in his logic. If it would bring peace and aid to Fodlan, then I--"

"You must do what is right for your people." Dimitri didn't bear look up, not with the snap of a whip in Byleth's words. "I understand why you might consider such an offer. But Dimitri. You recall the title this...old classmate once wore with pride, do you not?"

"The master tactician," Dimitri breathed. "But I cannot believe he would betray me in this. This union would benefit both our lands."

"It looks that way from your angle, but you must understand that your old friend Claude might see it as an opportunity." Byleth's hands fell out from beneath Dimitri's as he folded them behind his back. Dimitri set his hands on the floor, keeping his balance as he bowed his head lower. "This is quite serious, Dimitri. I don't know if even our beloved goddess will forgive you if you choose this path."

"What must I do?" Dimitri whispered, his blood singing.

Byleth was silent a moment, as if considering, then took a step, turning his back on Dimitri. "You must appeal to the goddess directly. This shall not be easy on you."

"I'm counting on that," Dimitri said, voice so soft he wasn't certain Byleth heard it.

"Follow me." Dimitri watched the archbishop walk away, towards those black metal doors that reflected no light. He didn't rise until the door swung open, soundlessly on hinges that never needed to be oiled. He followed Byleth into the darkness, into the tomb, into redemption. When the door slid shut behind them, the darkness was absolute.

"Remain here and reflect on your sins," came Byleth's disembodied voice. "When I summon you, you will be ready."

"Yes, Archbishop," Dimitri vowed.

He barely heard the footsteps on the stone stairs that led down from the tomb's entrance. He could smell the dampness of the tomb, felt the weight of the centuries that had aged this stonework and broken down the bodies of those interred here to the point beyond even rot or bone. All that was left was dust. Dust, and perhaps the crest stones of the children of the goddess.

It felt an eternity passed before eerie, blue-green light bloomed against the darkness. Crystal orbs lit of their own accord, as if activated by some ancient magic. The ghostly light progressed down the stairs to the first landing until Dimitri could see no further. Assuming this to be Byleth's beckoning, he stepped forward, letting the blossoming orbs light his way.

As soon as he reached the first landing, the remaining blue lanterns along the pillars and walls lit up all at once, glimmering with brilliant blue-green light, revealing the tombs of the dead and the throne of the goddess. The throne where Byleth now sat, his legs haughtily wideset, his chin resting on his fist. The throne was elevated over the entire room, elevated even over the platform where Dimitri now stood. The golden mantle of the archbishop had been cast aside: Byleth now looked as he once had when he fought by Dimitri's side. The black-clad mercenary, the Ashen Demon, the goddess reborn, sitting upon the ancient stone throne.

"Come if you be worthy," Byleth called, the chamber not daring to echo his voice even once. "Prove to me that you desire the goddess's forgiveness."

"I live to serve," Dimitri replied, bowing once more. He reached up to the clasp of his cloak and let it fall away in a careless heap. The air was warm and still down here anyway: he had no need of his cloak.

Each footstep was like the toll of a bell. The shadows shifted maliciously at the edges of the eerie light. Byleth's eyes looked sinister in the distance, glimmering as they watched Dimitri cross the chamber with a slow and purposeful step. He stepped up to the long, narrow staircase that led up to Byleth's throne and stopped, dropping to one knee as he bowed his head, waiting.

And black abyss, did Byleth make him wait.

Dimitri was just beginning to sweat when he heard Byleth's voice ring out with absolute authority.

"You confessed to conspiring with the king of a realm often at war with Fodlan. Do you deny it?"

"No, Your Grace."

"Do you wish for absolution from this sin?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Then you will serve a penance, granted by the goddess and given through me."

"I live to serve, Your Grace." Dimitri's heart was hammering against his ribs. He almost couldn't stand it: he knew his confession about Claude was certain to put Byleth in a dominating mindset. And all he'd wanted since he'd arranged this visit to Garreg Mach was to set aside his crown, set aside his responsibilities, and allow someone else to make his decisions for him.

Dimitri longed to be commanded.

"If you wish for the goddess's forgiveness," Byleth spoke slowly, as if just considering what he would ask Dimitri to do. "Then come forth as you did when you entered this world." Dimitri couldn't see Byleth's face, but he heard the smirk in his voice. "Strip yourself bare for the judgment of the goddess."

With his blood roaring in his ears, Dimitri unlaced one boot, then shifted to his other knee to unlace the other. He stood slowly, head still bowed as he stepped out of his boots, pulled his shirt from his leggings, laid his belt aside and folded everything neatly into a pile. When he stood fully nude, he reached for his eye patch, hesitating slightly. Byleth had said bare: did that mean the eye patch as well?

"You may leave that," Byleth said, clearly catching Dimitri's hesitance. "With that and nothing more, you may proceed." Dimitri put his bare foot on the first step, then halted at Byleth's next words: "On your knees."

Dimitri felt the blood rush to his face. Very little made him blush anymore, but the thought of crawling up these ancient steps to prostrate himself before the throne of the goddess...that was a little much. All at once, he was grateful that Byleth had brought him down here. He couldn't imagine what would happen should any of his citizens see him this way.

And even so, it felt a tremendous relief to set the burdens of ruling a nation aside, get down on his hands and knees, and crawl up every single crumbling stone step. Dust clung to his palms, his knees, his shins. His breath came harder with each step, not from exertion, but from anticipation.

If only he could see Byleth anytime he wanted, not only when he had confessions to share. He might ask for this absolution daily.

"Stop," Byleth commanded when Dimitri crested the top of the stairs. He'd adjusted his position. One leg was crossed over the other, his jaw still resting against a loosely closed fist. His expression was empty, as if it could be anyone before him, rather than the king of Fodlan, his former student and his lover. "What would you do to earn the forgiveness of the goddess?"

"I don't care about the goddess's forgiveness," Dimitri replied, still bowing in supplication. "I care only about you and what you would have me do for you."

"Heh." One corner of Byleth's mouth curled upwards. "Have you missed me, Dimitri?"

"You know that I have."

"Even as Claude makes overtures of marriage to you?"

"It means nothing to either of us," Dimitri explained. "And wasn't you who said that I should make whatever match strengthens my kingdom? To trust that the one who loves me would be understanding?"

"That was different." Byleth frowned. "That was before I could picture the face of the person you might wed."

Dimitri stifled a chuckle. "His face isn't that unfavorable."

Byleth uncrossed his legs, his heel clicking down with authority. "You're trying to provoke me."

"Is it working?"

Byleth's smile was cold and cruel as he beckoned with his fingers. "Come here and find out."

Dimitri knew better than to stand. Instead, he crawled to the throne. He curled a hand around Byleth's boot and kissed the side of it, looking up in a beseeching manner. "What would you have of me?"

"I think you know." Byleth gestured at his lap, where the laces of his breeches were already tugged loose, ready to come open. Dimitri reached forward, intent on peeling the breeches away, but Byleth caught his hands, leaning low to lock their eyes. "I didn't say you could use your hands, Dimitri."

Dimitri's heart skipped a beat as he nodded, accepting the command. He set his hands on the stone armrests on the throne, then leaned over Byleth's lap. In his teeth, he grabbed the leather of Byleth's breeches and peeled it back, stretching the laces until they pulled free of the top three eyelets. Beneath, Byleth's erection strained to come free. When that corner was peeled back as far as it could go, Dimitri released it, then repeated the motion with the other side of the opening. Byleth shifted his seat, his erection springing free at last. Dimitri looked up, holding Byleth's eyes as he leaned in and took the swollen tip into his mouth.

"Mmm." Byleth hummed agreeably, his eyes half lidded as he stroked Dimitri's hair. "That's nice. It's been a while." Dimitri nodded, swallowing more of Byleth's length as he did so. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, Dimitri? Nice and intimate and alone." Dimitri nodded again, bobbing lower. He stiffened as he felt the fingers twist in his hair. "If you wanted it to be nice and intimate, you shouldn't have brought up Claude."

A hand as firm as iron forced Dimitri's head down until his nose brushed the base of Byleth's cock. His body bucked against the force once, then sought to comply when Byleth was unmoved. He'd taken Byleth this deep before, but usually he had more of a chance to warm-up first. It wasn't a surprise, though--he'd known what he was doing when he'd first provoked Byleth.

Dimitri struggled to breathe through his nose as the tip of Byleth's cock pressed insistently against the back of his throat. Byleth controlled the motion, pressing his head down lower before letting it bob slightly upwards. It was slow and deep, not hurried at all: Byleth was going to take his time. Dimitri forced his throat to relax, focusing on swallowing, the motions of his tongue and the suction he could apply even as he drew slow breath after slow breath. This would take exactly as long as Byleth wanted it to take--nothing he could do would hurry it along.

It almost felt like a relief, to not have to do anything other than what he was allowed to do.

"I can see the advantages," Byleth said, voice cool, "of an alliance between Fodlan and Almyra. If Claude was to lead an army against Fodlan right now, while we are still weak and struggling to feed our citizens, a war would be quite costly. We might even be forced to cede the former Alliance to him. Though that was primarily his territory to begin with."

As he spoke, Byleth placed his boot against Dimitri's erection. Dimitri couldn't help but shudder and moan. Byleth flexed his ankle, pressing Dimitri's length back against his stomach, adding pressure until it was almost painful.

"But I have to wonder," Byleth continued, leaning his head into his hand, as if the ministrations meant nothing to him. "What benefit does Almyra gain from such an alliance? I hardly think Claude is offering this union out of sentiment and kindness. He must have an angle. Something he's not telling you in these...missives."

Dimitri tried to hold himself back from thrusting into the pressure exerted by Byleth's boot, but he couldn't entirely help himself. He could taste Byleth's precum on his tongue and it excited him, making him want more. The hand on the back of his head was merciless in its rhythm: never slowing, never letting up.

"Have you asked him?" Byleth asked. "What he wants in exchange for such...kindness?"

Dimitri hummed a response, shaking his head from side to side as much as he was allowed.

Byleth chuckled, the pressure against Dimitri's erection sharply increasing, making him choke and gasp. "Of course you didn't think to ask. You need to see beyond the surface, Dimitri. You are the king now, you need to think of more than the here and now. If Fodlan is to prosper as a unified nation, you need to make choices for the long term. What good would it do if, after your death, Fodlan was to fracture into factions once again?"

Dimitri was now shamelessly rutting up against Byleth's boot each time his head was forcefully shoved down. His fingernails scraped across the stone armrests of the throne, curling into fists and he struggled to obey the "no hands" rule. He felt tears at the corners of his eyes, saliva dripping off his chin, grit in his knees and a pinpoint of sharp pressure against his cock. But what he couldn't feel were the responsibilities of ruling a nation. His fate was entirely in Byleth's hands, his crown well and truly set aside, for this moment only.

Byleth drew a sharp breath and leaned back against the throne, eyes half closed as his hips began to pulse lightly in time with the hand that set the pace for Dimitri's deep-throated blowjob. His own hips began to tremble as he thought dizzily: I'm going to cum from having my cock stepped on. Just before he could, the pressure abruptly vanished, at the same time that the hand in his hair lifted him off.

"Keep your mouth open," Byleth ordered as he took his cock in hand, stroking himself to the finish. Dimitri complied, the first hot splash taking him across the bridge of his nose and cheekbone, the second hitting his chin and neck. For the rest, Byleth pulled Dimitri closer and spilled onto his tongue, releasing his hair and letting him sag backwards when he was finished. Dimitri swallowed, swiping the back of his hand across his chin before Byleth commanded him to leave it. Dimitri caught his breath on his knees before the throne, his entire body trembling with need.

"Did you think you were going to get off that easily?" Byleth asked, smirking as he used a handkerchief to clean himself. "Perhaps that would have been enough for a usual confession, but you had to go and bring up Claude."

"I thought--" Dimitri stopped, his throat raw and coarse from being deep-throated for so long. He coughed, cleared his throat, savoring the burn before continuing. "I thought it would have been much worse had I kept my correspondence concealed from you."

"You're right. It would have been worse if you'd tried to hide it." Byleth beckoned Dimitri forward. Dimitri leaned into Byleth's lap, sighing as gentle fingertips massaged his scalp, easing the hair pulled earlier. "You think I should let you off easy just for that?"

"No," Dimitri replied, resting his head on Byleth's knee. "I want all the penance you can give me. All the time the archbishop can spare for the king of Fodlan."

Byleth chuckled. "Do you know what you're asking for?"

"I do," Dimitri agreed. "But it's getting harder and harder to take time away from ruling in order to come and see you here. I want this to be long enough--rough enough--that I can remember it while I'm away."

"You have your friends with you," Byleth reminded him. "Dedue, Ingrid, Felix. Sylvain, for whatever that's worth."

Dimitri chuckled. "Yes, and I appreciate each of them, but none of them are you. I think you know I've been looking forward to the day when you can leave the mantle of the archbishop behind so that we may spend all our days together."

"You know I wish it, too," Byleth said, still running his fingers through Dimitri's hair. "But with the unrest of a unified Fodlan, that may take some time. You know the only commonality among all three independent nations prior to being unified was the church. It's the only symbol we can use to help the people of the Kingdom, the Empire, and the Alliance to come together."

"I understand all of that." Dimitri smiled up at Byleth. "But I still miss you."

Byleth was silent for a minute, a calculation in those ghostly eyes. "Then I suppose I'll have to give you something worth remembering. Especially as the next time I see you, I may be blessing a union between you and Claude."

"Goddess willing, it won't come to that," Dimitri chuckled. "But if it does, at least it will give me an excuse to see you."

"Dimitri." Byleth frowned, but his eyes sparkled; he was using his authoritative voice once again, sending shivers racing down Dimitri's spine. "Are you already planning on cheating on your future husband?"

"Possible but not likely future husband," Dimitri murmured for the sake of argument.

"That is a serious sin against our goddess," Byleth continued, as if Dimitri hadn't spoken.

"You know the Almyrans keep harems, right? I wouldn't even be Claude's only spouse. If he can sleep with other people, I don't see why I can't."

"Are you not a devout follower of the goddess?" Byleth demanded to know, cupping Dimitri's chin and forcing him to look up until their eyes met.

"I used to be," Dimitri confessed. "Now I only follow you."

"Sacrilege," Byleth hissed through a smirk. "You must be punished. Turn around. Stay on your hands and knees if you wish to beg for forgiveness."

"Anything for forgiveness," Dimitri replied, complying entirely. He turned his backside on the throne, looking out over the neat rows of crumbling graves arranged throughout the tomb. Once he'd thought this place creepy; now he got aroused just entering it. It was the only place where he and Byleth could be truly alone to turn penance into pleasure. He almost wished he didn't have to leave. If he didn't have a nation to rule, he wouldn't mind simply staying down here, chained to Byleth's throne for use whenever Byleth had need of him.

He heard movement behind him but didn't dare glance back. One of Byleth's hands rested briefly on Dimitri's shoulder before sliding down his back, pausing midway to trace a scar Dimitri had gotten during the war. When the hand came to rest on Dimitri's hip, he heard the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle, then felt something warm and slick being poured over his ass. He shivered once before steeling himself.

"It's just oil," Byleth said, even though Dimitri hadn't asked. "The goddess is merciful even when issuing punishment."

"I'll have to give a prayer of thanks," Dimitri said huskily. He trembled as Byleth held his ass open, letting the oil drip between his cheeks.

"She isn't that merciful," Byleth replied, one finger circling the ring of puckered muscle. "You'll still want to brace yourself."

Byleth's preparation was quick and perfunctory, making sure the oil was spread inside and out, but without very much stretching prior. Dimitri was nervously aroused: it had been quite a while since their last time, but he knew a bit of burn was what they both wanted. They both wanted this time to last them until they got this chance again. So when Byleth lined himself up behind Dimitri, he dropped low on his elbows, bracing himself. His body shivered in anticipation: he'd been waiting for this.

Byleth's length was slicked up as well, so it slid in easily despite resistance. Even so, the stretch was greater than Dimitri's body could rapidly adjust to, so Byleth moved slowly, sinking in inch by inch while Dimitri moaned and whimpered. He tried pushing backwards to take Byleth all at once, but the hands on his hips didn't give him the space to move. Sweat dripped off Dimitri's forehead to pool in between his clenched fists as Byleth filled him, stretched him, completed him. If the goddess was truly merciful, she would settle the discord within the realm swiftly and allow Dimitri and Byleth to be together.

Until then, these brief penance sessions were all they had.

Byleth actually let loose a moan when he finally bottomed out against Dimitri. He kicked out Dimitri's legs a little wider, pushed his spine into a deeper arch and slid in another inch, Dimitri bucking back against him once before taking a moment to revel in the sensation. Byleth stroked his spine once before settling his grip on Dimitri's hips.

"Are you ready to receive your punishment, Dimitri?"

"Yes," Dimitri whispered, bracing himself.

Nothing would have been enough to prepare him, not even if Byleth had taken the time for proper stretching and lubrication. Nothing was comparable to the feeling of Byleth drawing all the way out, slow and purposeful, before plunging back in with a snap that echoed throughout the holy tomb. Dimitri cried out even as his body moved to meet the thrust, though Byleth was already pulling away again. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh were each punctuated by a cry, a shout, a plea for more. It never felt like enough, even when it felt like too much. He wanted more, more. He wanted enough to get him through the frigid northern winter, enough to remember this when the snow began to thaw. Wanted to recall this exact feeling the next time he faced a crisis that would force him to make a hard decision. He wanted to be able to reflect back on this physical memory and recall what it felt like to set the mantle of ruling aside, to live completely in the moment and just _be_.

Dimitri's throat, already raw from the forceful deep-throating earlier, felt ragged and torn as screams came one after the other. Byleth was hitting that sweet, secret spot within him with an accuracy that mocked ace archers. His body was trembling, dripping with sweat, and begging for release. When Byleth reached beneath him and grasped Dimitri's cock, he nearly wept. It was coming. Any instant now, he would be complete. He would find that release, that euphoria, that empty state of being where existence was all that mattered. He felt it mounting, hot and heavy and hard, the pressure, the desire, the _need_ \--

A scream that tasted like blood tore from Dimitri's lips as Byleth pinched his fingers closed _hard_ around the base of Dimitri's cock. Byleth fell still in the same instant, his breath cooling the sweat on Dimitri's back. Dimitri attempted to rut backwards but the hand on his hip held him firm and steady. Dimitri felt hot tears of frustration well up in his eyes and slide down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and cum on his face. Why? Why had he stopped? Had he finished, or was he simply drawing this out?

For long moments all that could be heard was the two of them catching their breath. Dimitri shifted, the grit of the ages digging into his knees and elbows. He couldn't tell if Byleth had finished or not, not with the oil still warm and dripping off his skin from the preparation. Byleth's size didn't feel diminished at all, though, which seemed to be a good sign.

Slowly, after long, silent moments, Byleth withdrew. Saying nothing, he padded back to his throne, boots scraping as he turned and sat down. When Dimitri looked back, he looked almost entirely composed: hair neat, skin pale, breath even. Only his eyes betrayed him, dancing with the flames of desire as they stared down at Dimitri, still crouched on the floor.

"Why?" Dimitri asked, his voice breaking. "Why? Byleth, please."

"Please?" Byleth set his chin against his knuckles, leaning against the arm of the throne. "You wish to be absolved?"

"Yes," Dimitri said roughly. "Yes, I'll do anything."

Byleth considered him for long, silent minutes. "Absolution is not something that can be given. It is something you must take for yourself."

Dimitri stared up at him, body aching with need, longing for contact, for comfort, for freedom from responsibility, freedom from pain, from want, from _freedom_ itself. And Byleth was telling him to...take it himself?

Dimitri swallowed, hoping he understood. He didn't want to ruin anything, but he couldn't miss this chance, couldn't not take what was offered. He pushed himself up off the floor, brushing dust and dirt from his knees and elbows. His joints felt bruised, abused from long contact against the stone floor, but he pushed all of that aside. Byleth watched him approach without speaking a word, without showing any pleasure or displeasure. Dimitri set one knee on the seat of the throne between the armrest and Byleth's leg. Slowly, he leaned in until their lips just met. He waited the space of a heartbeat, just in case he got it wrong, then kissed Byleth deeply, hungrily, greedily. He needed it just then: the intimacy of a lover rather than the absolution of a deity. Byleth tipped his face up, accepting the kiss and kissing back, lips and tongues sliding past each other, teeth teasing, breath gasping. Dimitri pulled back when he ran out of breath, dragging one hand through Byleth's hair.

"You want me to take what I want?" he asked raggedly.

"Take what you think you deserve," Byleth replied.

Dimitri dropped his gaze to Byleth's lap. He'd pulled his breeches up, but he hadn't secured the laces. His erection thrust upwards, slick and dark and heavy with need. It seemed Byleth hadn't reached completion, just as Dimitri hadn't. Dimitri swallowed hard, considering what he thought he deserved versus what he actually wanted.

And decided he would take what he wanted, regardless of whether or not he deserved it.

Dimitri turned around then lowered himself into Byleth's lap, using one hand to guide Byleth to his entrance. He gasped as the heat seared his skin like a brand, then bit his lower lip as he sank down onto it. He didn't rush it, but he didn't go slowly, either. His body was already stretched out, slicked up, ready and welcoming. He moaned as he felt it deeper and deeper within him, a warmth he wished he never had to go without. When he was fully seated in Byleth's lap, he tipped his head back against Byleth's shoulder. Byleth kissed him thoroughly, hands ranging down his shoulders, his chest, his abs, stroking his thighs and tracing old scars. They sat like that for long minutes, kissing and touching, bodies trembling, aching, longing.

I hate having to miss this, Dimitri thought, trying to memorize the exact shade of Byleth's eyes in his lust. I hate that I have to leave. I hate that he has to stay. I want a future for us that doesn't exist in Fodlan right now.

But if they kept working on it, together, even while apart, maybe--just maybe--they'd earn that future one day.

Byleth held perfectly still, which meant it was up to Dimitri to start. He set his hands on the armrests of the carved throne and braced himself, raising his hips before lowering them back into Byleth's lap. Byleth gave an appreciative groan, hands petting Dimitri's thighs, giving subtle encouragement. Dimitri braced his feet wide on the floor, arched his back then lifted off again. He didn't have a wide range of motion, but he didn't need it, either. He was close from being denied twice already, his body begging to find that sweet release, and judging by the pulsing from Byleth’s hips beneath him, he had to be close as well. Dimitri let his eyes fall shut, his head back against Byleth's shoulder as he set a steady rhythm, easy at first to grow used to the motions, then steadily he increased the pace: faster, harder, slamming down before riding back up. Before it was punishing, brutal, even, but Dimitri was in control and he didn't want to let it go. He felt Byleth's teeth in his neck, his shoulder, his ear, breath rustling his hair. Hands stroked his chest, pinched his nipples, pressed in over his abs as if to increase the pressure within him. Dimitri whimpered as he tried to memorize every single sensation as they bombarded him all at once. He didn't want to lose this, didn't want to forget...

When the rhythm grew too fast for Dimitri to control, Byleth seized his hips, lifting and pulling back at a frenzied pace. Dimitri tried to ride it out for as long as he could, wishing it never had to end, then finally he gave in, wrenching one hand free of the armrest to take his weeping length in hand. His body jumped as if surprised, but Byleth slammed him back down mercilessly, making Dimitri cry out. His erection slick from its own precum, Dimitri thrust into his hand at the rhythm set by Byleth beneath him. He felt his need coil within him, hot like blood on the point of a spear. Byleth was inside him, a comforting presence, the feeling of lasting absolution. Dimitri's eyes fell closed, his breathing ragged and uncontrolled, his legs trembling, long since past the point where they could take his weight.

Ecstasy tore through him all at once, the white-hot strike of a blade he felt all over, from the marrow of his bones to the tingle of lightning within his skin. His body went limp and boneless, sagging back against Byleth as pleasure pulsed out of him in time with his heartbeat. Byleth shuddered and cursed, one arm wrapping around his stomach and pulling him flush against Byleth's body. Dimitri shivered and convulsed, Byleth's touch almost too much on his overly sensitized body. He felt every pulse of Byleth's release, felt the scrape of callused fingertips on his skin, felt the breath on his sweat-drenched skin like the beat of a wyvern's wings. Too much, too much. His release had been held off too long, his body couldn't help but feel every little thing with intensity. Even Byleth just brushing a lock of hair over his ear was too much: his body clenched once more, wringing another groan out of Byleth.

"It's okay," Byleth murmured, catching his breath. "I have you. Everything is fine."

Dimitri tried to chuckle but he could only wheeze. He interlaced his fingers through Byleth's and their arms dropped to the armrest. Time felt immutable down within the holy tomb, so it was impossible to say how long they sat, catching their breath and holding each other, but it was still too soon when Byleth began to move.

"I'm sorry, love," Byleth murmured as he helped Dimitri to his feet. "We both have responsibilities to attend to. We'll be missed if we linger much longer."

"The only person I want to be missed by is you," Dimitri confessed, bracing a forearm against the throne as his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

"I always miss you," Byleth replied, kissing the back of Dimitri's hand. "Fodlan will settle into peace in due time. Once I'm no longer needed as the archbishop, I'll go wherever you want me to."

"Is that a promise?" Dimitri pressed, drawing Byleth close enough to kiss.

"Yes," Byleth vowed, smiling softly as he used a handkerchief to clean Dimitri's face.

"Even if I marry Claude?"

"We'll just see what the church has to say about that," Byleth said, a teasing tone in his voice.

Dimitri laughed and set to getting dressed.

He was already looking forward to his next "confession."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written by request. If you have a fic request, check out my pinned Tweet on [Twitter](%E2%80%9D).


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